Follow Your Star
by MissTempleton
Summary: Several different stars have appeared over 221B The Esplanade; will everyone find their own?


**Follow Your Star**

Elizabeth Jane Robinson was – finally – asleep. It wasn't her first Christmas, but it was the first one she'd understood at all, and as a consequence, she'd been wildly excited for most of the day. It helped that the house had been full of her favourite people; even her Great Aunt Prudence had found it impossible to disapprove of the exuberant tot.

Mary-Lou, who'd had the day off to visit her own family, had returned in time to dispense some much-needed calm common-sense, and was now dozing over a novel in the nursery.

Aunt P had left for the day, but the rest of the populace was still gathered around the dining table – because there might possibly be a corner of someone's stomach that wasn't absolutely stuffed with Mr Butler's delicious food, and could therefore have a little more shoehorned in. Enough members of the company had memories of Christmases past with barely enough nourishment to keep an elf alive that gluttony was not only forgiven, but was positively applauded.

The shoehorning process was therefore both enthusiastic and raucous, but eventually Miss Fisher rose to her feet and tapped imperiously on her wine glass to gain the table's attention.

"In my own unique fashion," she cast a glance around the table that was as wicked as it was fond, "I want to wish you all a very … oh."

This last because all the lights had gone out in the room – and it appeared, the house. A moment later, there was a rustling sound, and then … silence.

A series of exclamations, and footsteps retreated to the kitchen, before returning. A match was struck, and the ever-resourceful Mr Butler lit the candelabra, which had been moved to the sideboard to make more room for the clove-speckled ham.

As the company blinked in the dim light, two things became abundantly clear: the rustling sound had heralded the arrival on the dining table of a small heap of Christmas crackers; and Miss Fisher had vanished.

Jack leaped to his feet, but there was no sign of her in the immediate vicinity, and the front door was resolutely closed. Unless she'd been taking more lessons from Lin Soo, it seemed she must be in the house _somewhere_. Also, unless he was much mistaken, there had been a subtext in that sly salutation from a moment ago.

In the meantime, the rest of the company were examining the crackers. There was one for each of them, inscribed with a name in Phryne's extravagantly flowery script. Intrigued, they paired off and pulled; the cracker being presented to its owner once snapped.

Jane, as the youngest, went first and delved inside.

"There's nothing there," she said disappointedly. "Oh, wait, yes there is! Here!"

She pulled out a brightly-coloured slip of paper, and unfurled it. Even as she did so, Cec's fiancée Alice did the same; so they almost chorused their findings. "The Tivoli!" "It's a ticket for the variety show! And it's for tonight!"

By now, the others had opened theirs. Bert, Mac and Cec all brandished similar tickets with mounting glee.

"C'mon! I want to go and see that Joe Lawman, he's a hoot!" exclaimed Bert, jumping to his feet. "And Miss Mahon … there's a star and no mistake,"

Glancing at the clock, they discovered there was little time to spare, and immediately started bundling towards the door. Mac, as last to leave, glanced back to see if the remainder were also attending.

Mr Butler, Lin Soo and the Chief Inspector, however, appeared to have something different; so she shrugged, and ran after the others, cramming her trilby on her neat curls.

 _The Glenlivet '98_ read Mr Butler on a slip of Miss Fisher's heavy notepaper.

 _The place you first met Phryne_ read Lin Soo.

Soo made the mistake of debating for an instant who had left the clue, which meant that Tobias was the first to the whisky bottle in the parlour. She crept across the room, finding her way by the moonlight through the window, and came to stand beside him, eyes limpid as she took a glass from his hand and regarded him solemnly.

"Do you hide from me in the dark? I am not hiding from you, Tobias."

"I am aware of that, Miss Lin. You have no idea how much it terrifies me."

"You shall not be frightened by the person you understand better than does anyone else on earth. And I have not been Miss Lin, I thought, for some time."

"Then what can I be? … Soo."

"In love, Tobias. I hope you can be in love. At the very least, please pity my defenceless state; and be gentle."

Tobias admitted that he was in love, and was tremulous in his gentility.

Left alone at the dining table, Jack turned the toy over and over in his fingers, brow furrowed. It was one of Elizabeth's building blocks, and had letters on all six of its sides.

ENT – RING – WIT – LO – HINT – ITE

Ring? Hint? It made Absolutely No Sense. He'd already given Phryne a ring. Two rings, in fact. Why would she be hinting for another one?

Then he turned it differently, and managed to work out that there was a word spelled out in one direction.

 _Loitering_

Aha! Smiling slightly, he then spun the dice the other way in his fingers. Yes!

 _Loitering with intent_

Well, he reasoned, that was Miss Fisher all over. She was a first-rate loiterer. And he'd often had cause to worry about her intent.

But where would she loiter?

His first guess was to go back to the front door. Was she perhaps on the steps? No. He wandered down the path a little. In the shrubbery by the gate? Hovering under a street lamp pretending to be Differently Reprehensible?

Apparently not.

Where else might she loiter?

He spun on his heel, and surveyed the first-floor balcony. The moonlight failed to disclose the presence of any Lady Detectives, though, so he re-entered the house and stood, lost in thought. Mr Butler and Lin Soo had taken the liberty of closing the door to the parlour, so he decided Phryne was unlikely to be with them, and left well alone.

The boudoir? He headed for the stairs.

Glancing round the nursery door on the way, he saw Mary-Lou now inelegantly asleep, and Elizabeth beautifully so, new favourite teddy-bear (a gift from Jane) clutched to her chest. Smiling, he passed on, but found the boudoir completely devoid of wives.

Standing in the window, he tossed the building block in his hand again; then raised his head.

 _What if …?_

He raised it to the moonlight, and scanned the words again. Then grinned; and shed his coat, waistcoat and tie, removing cufflinks and rolling his sleeves roughly to his elbows before descending the stairs once more in what the police force termed – on the rare occasions it was prepared to countenance such nonsense – shirt sleeve order.

This time he headed to the back of the house, and let himself out into the garden there.

Candlelight was a terrible idea under canvas. He would have to deal with the fire risk immediately – especially given that it threw beautifully artistic, flickering shadows for the edification of any interested observer outside the tent.

Someone, most definitely the female of the species, was _loitering within tent_.

Those shadows, in fact, made him catch his breath, and he edged towards the tent, ducking down to lift the heavy front flap.

Then his mouth went dry.

It appeared to be occupied by a _houri_ , who was reclining on several layers of luxuriant rugs, furs and silks. The _houri_ had been given a silver pendant by her lover as a gift earlier that day … shaped in the form of a cat, it was in an elongated, art-deco style. She clearly liked the pendant very much, because she was wearing it, and one hand played with it idly.

She did not, on the other hand, appear to think much of any other items of jewellery. Or, indeed, clothing.

Then there came a low voice, perfectly pitched for a warm night and a dulcet breeze.

"Hello, Jack, darling. Happy Christmas. Now blow out the candles and come here."

He'd been brought up to believe that Father Christmas would know whether a lad had been obedient. In the past, he'd received a pirate book, a paint box and a new bicycle in return for having done as he was told.

Jack Robinson – obediently – had the happiest Christmas of his life.

(Thus far.)


End file.
